


Shooting Stars (Fading Away)

by Shamelessly_Radiant



Category: Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman
Genre: And Of Course - Freeform, F/M, Fiyero reflects on Elphaba, Musicalverse, The Black Hat, and they find their life together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 14:59:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11694093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamelessly_Radiant/pseuds/Shamelessly_Radiant
Summary: In a sky full of stars, she'd shine the brightest of them all--Elphaba manages what Fiyero can only pretend. The first time he sees her, with that ridiculous skin and that ridiculous hair and that ridiculous, ridiculous hat he feels… jealous."Of course she does," Galinda murmurs, "she just pretends not to."And this; this is the start of them. (They don't know this yet, but they have a very long way to go.)(Or: from the very first time he sees her, he is caught in her orbit. He just doesn't know it, at first.)





	Shooting Stars (Fading Away)

**Author's Note:**

> What a mess of a summary and what a mess of a tittle and hopefully not a mess of a work. I should be studying, so this, as always means musical time. Anastasia, The Sound Of Music and Wicked. Wow. What a mess of a girl.
> 
> Please leave a comment and make my day?
> 
> (Also, this is the third day I'm twenty-one, woooh)
> 
> Oh yes, inspired by Supernova by arabmorgan. It's a wonderful, lovely work.
> 
> (If someone wants to beta this, please let me know! -- what a mess of a note, btw)

Here’s the thing: Fiyero Tigelaar is meant to be so little and so much at the same time. He scoffs at any work, he’s above this all. He has people to meet and places to see and girls at his feet.

School is just a prison, and he’s meant for more than classroom walls. He escapes, he does not study and he pretends he is above life.

Every time he is kicked out of a school, he takes this as a victory. Every time his parents send him farther and farther away, he rejoices. It is not as if he wants to be near them—their endless arguments, their talks of duty, their eternal pretence.

At least he acts no different than who he is: he parties and he drinks and he has a girl (or two) on his arm at all times. He makes sure she is the prettiest in the room, no one else is worthy of him. Sometimes he dumps them after the first night, sometimes he dates them for a while. But they always try to change him, _try_ being the key, so he never lets them stay too long.

Then, Shiz happens. Or, more accurately, Elphaba happens.

He has no eyes for her at first. In fact, he doesn’t see her at all: Galinda is the one he sets his eye on the very moment he arrives.

She handles the munchkin boy- Bic, Boq?- with ease, is dressed in the finest clothes; obviously rich. She’s pretty, blonde, popular. Perfect.

He has her wound around his finger from the very start, sees the enamoured gaze in her eyes. He introduces his life’s philosophy, asks her out and thinks he’ll maybe keep her around a while.

Elphaba makes quite an entrance. Galinda asks him not to stare, and this is when he sees that she cares, sometimes.

He does his best to listen to her, but this proves difficult. She makes an impression at once—and it is not, or well, not only because she’s… _green_. It is because she does not care at all what people think of her.

(It is because she manages what Fiyero can only pretend. The first time he sees her, with that ridiculous skin and that ridiculous hair and that ridiculous, ridiculous _hat_ he feels… jealous.)

“Of course she does,” Galinda murmurs, “she just pretends not to.”

This is the girl that has made fun of Elphaba on several occasions. Fiyero does not know this, only sees the way how Galinda goes over to Elphaba and saves her from the embarrassment. Assumes they are friends, or at least friendly.

The others around are torn—but it is _Galinda_ , and Galinda is perfect and everyone wants to be liked by Galinda and knowing Galinda opens doors and everyone is quite obsessed with Galinda and so they let it go, and Elphaba has such a big heart that she forgives easily. Galinda feels guilty and goes over to her mainly to assuage her guilt—Galinda wants so badly to keep believing she is so good and sweet and perfect, and this time she manages to be kind. Elphaba has a constant litany inside her head: _you’re ugly, you’re green, you’ll never be good enough._ Elphaba forgives.

It is the start of a rocky, but ultimately very strong friendship.

Fiyero does not know any of this. He sees Galinda dancing with Elphaba and only wonders what Elphaba keeps hidden, because Galinda is perfect and she’d only ever associate with people that _matter_ so Elphaba must matter somehow.

Fiyero only ever associates with people that can be of use to him. He projects this onto Galinda and he is mostly right. But this time, he's wrong.

.

Fiyero and Galinda become the hot topic of the school, and Galinda’s and Elphaba’s newfound friendship becomes the hushed and whispered gossip. He floats in and out of classes, not really paying attention to any of it, just awaiting his next expulsion. He parties, and he visits Galinda and he notices Elphaba every time she passes by.

They sit together in class often, which only means that he can study her a bit closer since Elphaba would never actually talk in class. She’s quite the diligent student, found more often in the library than in any other place. Privately, Fiyero thinks she’s trying to make up for something. He is both right and wrong: Elphaba does has something to prove, but mainly to herself. The hopeful part of her writes her father letters, the bitter part of her knows that he does not even read them, and much less cares about her grades—he only cares that her studying means she cares less for Nessarose.

She turns heads everywhere she goes, but she always keeps her head up high. Fiyero cannot understand this. He is no longer jealous, not really, just bemused, confused, searching for an act. Sometimes he catches a flicker of hurt in those dark eyes and he thinks _ah_. At first with triumph, now with something resembling regret.

He never thinks about it for too long. Just buries his face in Galinda’s blonde hair, kisses her lips with his, drinks some more.

.

He arrives to class one day, to find her _flipping her hair._ She’s wearing… well, something very un-Elphaba like, a ridiculous flower in her hair. He stops and—he stares.

What?” she asks him, and _ah_ there is the self-conscious girl he knows.

“Nothing, it's just...” he shakes his head, giving her a quick once-over. “You've been "Galinda-fied". You don't have to do that, you know?”

He doesn’t know why he says it, implication obvious in the way she looks at him: not understanding, confused, flattered and a bit disgusted at the same time. She looks at him as if he has said something very strange, something outrageous and he is glad class begins right that instant, saving him.

It doesn’t save him for very long.

Everything happens so quickly: Dr. Dillamond taken away, a professor entering with a cage and a trembling lion cub, Elphaba outraged, asking him what she should do as the other students _ooh_ and _aah_ as they gather round the cage.

Then: everybody moving and she- standing strangely still in the middle; hands held out and a furious scowl on her face. Sparks are flying, and it takes him a second to realise he is not affected. He is quick to catalogue the situation though, always has been: it is how he can keep up, play pranks, play it cool, show off his wit. A surviving skill.

“What’s happening?” he asks, though he suspects already. Magic seems to crackle on the very surface of her skin, giving it an eerie glow.

“I don’t know! I got mad… and…”

“Alright, don’t move!” he snaps, moving forward, manoeuvring in between the people moving as puppets on strings; “and don’t get mad at me.” He drawls, as an afterthought, as his hand closes around the handle of the cage.

He moves to the door, and notices she hasn’t moved an inch as he’s about to leave. “Well? Are you coming?” he asks, expectantly.

She follows him, the both of them hurrying to get out of the school as fast as possible.

“Careful!” she reprimands him, as he’s slowing down in search for a safe place.

“What, what?” he asks, agitated.

“Don’t shake him!”

“I’m not’” he snaps.

“We can’t let him loose anywhere, you know. We have to find someplace safe…” her voice trails off as she looks around.

“I realise that? What, you think I’m really stupid, don’t you?” he asks tersely. Nerves have him wound high, on guard—any second now they’ll find them, the cage in his hands speaking louder than a confession could. _Oz_ , why is he here?

“No, not _really_ stupid.” Elphaba says, looking at him meaningfully; he rolls his eyes. They have come to a clearing, red poppy’s blooming on the peripheries.

Carefully, he sets down the cage, regarding her curiously. “You know,” he starts, conversationally, as he scratches his leg where the grass is tickling “why is it that every time I see you you’re causing some sort of commotion?”

“I don’t cause commotions, I am one.” She says.

He looks at her, taking in the rigidness of her shoulders, the thick black hair, the emerald green skin. “That’s for sure,” he mutters, but he does not mean it as an insult, not quite.

But she takes it as one, of course. “Oh! So you think I should just keep my mouth shut! Is that what you’re saying?”

“No,” he says, “I’m—“

“Do you think I want to be this way?”

“N-“

“Do you think I want to care this much?” she continues, not letting him speak at all. “Don't you know how much easier my life would be if I didn't?”

“Do you ever let anyone else talk?” he interjects quickly, as she pauses to take a breath.

She pauses. As she visibly deflates ome truimph wells up in him, but as usual, it is accompanied by regret. “Oh, sorry... But can I just say one more thing?”

He laughs, shaking his head slightly, gesturing at her to continue.

“You could have just walked away back there.” She says this quietly, her look pensive.

“So?” He drawls, shrugging.

“ _So_ , no matter how shallow and self-absorbed you pretend to be...”

“Excuse me," he interupts sharply. "There's no pretence here. I happen to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow.”

She fixes him with a no nonsense look: “No you're not. Or you wouldn't be so unhappy.”

His face contorts for the briefest of moments. He shakes it off, reminds himself: _dancing through life_. He could use a drink about now. “Okay, fine, look, if you don’t want my help—“He sighs, annoyed and starts to walk off. He wouldn't stop, but--

“No, I do!” she raises her voice slightly as her hand catches his. He stops, utterly transfixed. Looks at the small, green hand in his broad white one; marvels at how normal it feels: just a hand, just as warm, just as soft as any other hand he has touched. He runs his thumb over its surface, thinks _softer_ —let’s go quickly, eyes wide. She has about the same look on her face as he has on his, he’s sure. His thoughts are sluggish, he can do nothing but stare at her: he takes in the hair that tumbles past her shoulders, the rich hues, the elegant curves of her face.

 _You don't have to do that,_ he had told her, but only now does her beauty strike him. Her nimble hands, her black rich hair and her face, her face. She's not conventionally beautiful, but she  _is_ beautiful. How had he not seen it before?

Elphaba sucks in a breath, turning her attention quickly to the lion cub as she releases it from its cage. “Poor little thing,” she whispers, “Its heart is trembling… I didn’t mean to frighten him…”

“Well, what did you mean to do?” he asks as he walks closer, crouches beside her. “Why was I the only one you didn't do it to?” he adds, softer, the question meant more for himself than for her.

She doesn’t make a reply, because when she looks at him her eyes stray to his cheek, widening slightly. “Oh look, you're bleeding..." She says, something else, but he becomes distracted by the way she leans closer to her.

Now that she mentions it, he suddenly feels the sticky blood on his face, the warmth around the cut.

“Yeah,” he manages, “or maybe it scratched me.” What did she say? Her lips twitch, amused.

She raises her hand hesitantly—the same that was in his moments ago—and two trembling fingers touch his face.

He jumps up, confused, not ready for this onslaught of emotions, and feeling a bit guilty as Galinda suddenly flashes through his mind. “I better get to safety... I mean the cub... get the cub to safety.” He stammers and walks off. Fast.

Vaguely, he hears her call out his name. Just once. He keeps walking. He thinks that if she calls out again he will not be able to keep going but she doesn’t utter another word.

He tells himself he is relieved—his tightening stomach tells him otherwise. He does not look back.

.

When Galinda tells Elphaba she doesn’t know Fiyero anymore, something in Elphaba’s chest surges up with joy.

When he arrives, he tells her he’s happy for her. He hands her the red flowers and watches a smile flit over her face. He told himself it was a coincidence when he picked them, but he ruins this with his next words.

“Listen, I’ve been thinking-“

“Yes, I’ve heard.” She replies, telling her heart to calm down, stop it; _stop it, you are not that girl, you are not good enough for him. For anyone._

Still, still.

“No… uh… no. About that lion cub… and uh, everything. I’ve been thinking about that day a lot.”

“So do I.” she says, softly; and he finds himself hoping, hoping so hard and willing himself not to. A hand is tucked into his arm- it is not a green hand.

Galinda— _Glinda_ , makes a fool out of herself, taking a stand, being solidary, and the both of them barely have eyes for it. Fiyero tries too hard not to look at her; on some level he knows she is doing the same.

“Very admirable of you, Glinda,” he manages, but only after Elphaba shoots him a pointed look. He gives her a curt nod: “Elphaba. Good luck.” He is gone as quickly as he came, running away from her again. This time, she does not call out after him. He finds himself wishing she would.

Meanwhile Elphaba invites Glinda along, and does not know yet she will never come back to Shiz. Does not know yet how long it will be before she sees Fiyero again.

.

Years pass.

She becomes the Wicked Witch of the West. She is feared throughout the land. Very few people remember the real her. Sometimes even he wonders if he didn’t simply imagine her. Mostly he wonders if he ever knew her at all.

He becomes the captain of the guard, and Glinda’s fiancé.

He drifts in and out of life, processing report after report about sighting of her, knowing and being fiercely glad of the fact that she is far too smart to allow herself to be caught that easily.

He loves her for it, and he hates her for it too, because she left everything behind when she took off into the sky, everything but the missing piece of his heart.

.

He’s standing on a balcony, feeling rage creep up on him, overwhelming him as he hears the people talk. Finally, one makes the ludicrous claim that water can melt her and he snaps. He argues it out with Glinda- in the background, of course; smiling and talking through their clenched teeth, keeping up the pretence, always fucking pretending.

Finally, he relents. He gives in. He tells her that he is sorry, that she is right, and that he’ll marry her, of course, if that’s what will make her happy.

“But,” she asks, in a broken voice, no longer smiling: “it will make you happy too, right?”

“You know me,” he says, and he cannot keep the bitterness out of his voice because she doesn’t know him at all. “I’m always happy.”

He walks off, distantly hears her say something about refreshments, and thinks about another’s hand in his, dark eyes flickering as she called him out on his pretence, seeing what no one had ever seen before. ( _No, you’re not. Or you wouldn’t be so unhappy.)_

His heart aches with it but what else can he do. She left and it doesn’t seem likely she’ll come back any time soon.

.

He forgets that Elphaba has the habit of proving him wrong.

The wizard calls for the guards, and there she is, in all her glory; and who else next to her than Dr. Dillamond?

“Silence, witch!” he snaps at her, angry, betrayed, happy and thinking, thinking, he’s trying to _think._

He tells his guards to fetch him water, tapping into the ridiculous rumours the people are spreading about the girl, no, the woman; the witch standing before him. He aims his weapon at her, his hand steady.

“Fiyero,” she pleads.

“Silence.”

He drags the wizard out from behind his mask, and changes his aim easily, thoughtlessly. He moves slightly so Elphaba is next to him, so he can sweep her behind him if need be.

“No, no.” The wizard says, hands held out to him.

“Don't make a sound, your Ozness, unless you want all your guests to know the truth about the Wonderful Wizard of Oz” he warns. Without taking his eye or gun of the Wizard, he speaks to her “Elphaba, I'll find Doctor Dillamond later, now get out of here.”

Predictably, she doesn’t listen. “Fiyero, you frightened me. I thought, I thought you might have changed.”

 _I thought you might have believed me wicked, as well. But I knew, or thought I knew you were not that stupid._ This is what he thinks she’s saying. Some part of him feels as if he should reassure her, but—he has changed. Years have passed. No one of them is who they used to be any longer.

“I have changed,” he says, is about to tell her to leave again when Glinda enters. Suddenly, he’s aware of the heavy band on his finger, wearing him down. Producing an almost choking sensation. He gags, slightly, fiddling with it.

Glinda doesn’t notice. She hugs Elphaba tight, and he is painfully aware of his arms and how they are not wrapped around the green girl.

Before he knows it, he’s throwing his whole life away. Glinda looks heartbroken and betrayed, and she is both right and wrong but he doesn’t have _time._ He cannot explain this, he only knows the moment has come where he has to follow his heart.

So he takes Elphaba’s hand, leaves Glinda behind, the guard, the wizard and-

He leaves.

They run.

.

They don’t stop for a very long time. Around them, monkeys shriek as they fly high, and her hand is firmly in his; he refuses to let go.

When they stop, it is dark, and they are surrounded by trees. There are no red flowers here, but that doesn’t matter, because he is here, and so is she. Finally together.

His heart beats, and for once this does not pain him. She asks him why he came with her; he tells her he is in love with her.

They crouch down, and his hands skim her waist, caress her back, touch her face. She says she needs help believing he is with her, but it is him that cannot believe he finally has her here next to him.

Even if it is just for this moment, even if there is no future for them, he’ll make up for lost time. He’ll make every moment last.

Somehow, somehow he fell under her spell, but he feels as if it is up that he fell. She has bewitched him, but he knows she’d never cast a spell on him. Even if she had, he’d doubt he’d care right now.

Their movements are frenzied, and he breathes easier and easier as more and more of her gorgeous green skin is bared to his gaze. She is so soft, so smooth, so warm. So beautiful.

They are so wicked.

.

“I just wish I could be beautiful for you,” she murmurs, and this breaks his heart. Doesn’t she know? Didn’t he tell her from the start: she didn’t have to do anything to capture his attention, except be herself.

How can he convince her that he is not lying? He tells her it is looking at things a different way, and this is not quite a lie, but not quite the truth, either. Still, if it is the only way she’ll believe him, he’ll continue repeating it.

He tells her he loves her, and this is the truth, so he hopes fiercely she’ll believe this, too.

For a brief moment, everything is perfect. Then—a change in the weather. A gasp drawn from her lips, her face pained. A house flying through the sky.

She is a hero in a way he could never be. He runs, again, this time because she urges him too. Had he been braver, had he been a hero too, he’d insist on coming with her.

Instead, he watches her go before he takes off in the other direction, but not before uttering parting words. He tells her of his castle, her safe place. She asks him, desperately, if they’ll see each other again and he almost laughs at the question. To him, it is ridiculous that she needs his assurance when he is the one that knows he isn’t good enough for her, but he tells her anyways.

“Elphaba, we are going to be together always. You can see houses flying through the sky, can't you see that?”

His breath stutters out of his lungs. His hands clench and unclench in their wish to be able to be more—he hopes fiercely that he will not be proven wrong. If houses can fly through the sky, if they live in a world were magic is real; it is not farfetched at all to believe their love can endure, is it?

And it is not farfetched at all to believe they’ll be allowed their happy ending, is it?

He hopes. He hopes so hard hope can make a difference at all.

.

He has almost reached the castle when he decides he will not hide away. He may not be a hero, but he cannot sit still and wait for her. She is in danger. He feels it. Houses do not just fly through the sky… something wicked is happening, something truly wicked, something the citizens of Oz would never be able to understand.

They point at Elphaba and call her Wicked and point at the Wizard and call him Wonderful and cannot comprehend anything else than their silly gossip.

He runs. But this time, he does not run _away._ He runs to her, and wills the time to go slower.

.

When he closes his eyes, knowing for sure he’ll never open them again, she is long gone. Safe. Though it hurts too much to do so, he smiles.

Maybe he is a bit of a hero. This once, he’ll allow her to be right.

He closes his eyes, and falls into the dark. Sadness overwhelms him when the knowledge that he will never see her again comes, but then, the pain fades away, and all he feels is relief.

.

He wakes up alone. Changed.

She saved him.

Of course she did.

.

When Glinda has long gone, when the witch hunters have left, believing themselves victorious, when he releases a breath he no longer needs—

She is there with him, at the end of things, and this is all he needs.

He places her hat on her head carefully, arranging her raven locks neatly around her face and presses a kiss to both her hands.

Tearfully, she smiles at him.

“You’re still beautiful,” she tells him.

He looks down. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“It’s not lying,” she says, a soft smile on her face; mirroring his as he realises what her next words will be: “it’s looking at things a different way.”

They leave Oz behind. They will mourn this a long time, but they’ll have each other through it all— _we’ll be together always_ he had told her. He intends to keep this promise. He holds her hand in his, and she holds him steady.

They leave Oz behind. They allow themselves one last look—he thinks of everything he has lived here. It breaks his heart to know they’ll never come back, but it fills it with joys too, knowing he is leaving his past behind, knowing his future lies ahead of him.

They leave Oz behind.

.

In Oz, live goes on. Privately, Glinda grieves. Slowly, the town forgets about them: out of sight, out of the heart; no matter how little heart they have.

For a moment, they were glorious: the Wicked Witch of The West and the former Captain of the guard. But the Wizard is long gone, too, and so… they fade. Even the brightest of stars eventually does.

Here, they are nothing but Elphaba and Fiyero, two recluses that love each other.

This is more than enough.

It always will be.


End file.
